


Finer Feelings

by taormina



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hotel Sex, I'm so sorry, M/M, Not Happy, Porn with Feelings, Role Reversal kinda, desperate!Gary, mark tops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark wants to be more than Gary’s booty call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finer Feelings

The walk from the car park to the hotel always felt shorter on the way back.

There was a nervousness in Mark’s step as he stepped onto the gravel path to the entrance. The loose stones underneath his shoes _crunched_ and _ground_ loudly as he went, and he slowed down as he realised what a racket he was making.

The single bottle of beer he had left half-full in the fridge before leaving was making his world spin a little slower. He’d probably down it when he got back and serve himself another.

So much for sobriety.

In his pushing open of the door, Mark felt a languidness that had little to do with the alcohol in his system. His body, he knew, was telling him to turn around and get back inside the car with James; leave, quickly, and pretend this had never happened. By the time he reached reception, he had already come up with five reasons why what they were doing was wrong. The reasons hadn’t changed since they started doing this years ago.

And yet here Mark was, with a pocket full of condoms and a cock made hard by the thought of fucking Gary absolutely senseless.

There wasn’t a more elegant way of putting it. This was a booty call, through and through.

He politely nodded at the kind lady at the reception and started towards the lift. The long wait for the lift prolonged by the feeling of excited dread in his stomach, Mark impatiently and repeatedly pressed the DOWN button until the lift finally arrived with a gentle _ting_. The doors opened, and he got in.

The second floor, room 2.04. A single room not designed for nightly liaisons, and, therefore, perfect.

Mark never remembered the short walk to the room afterwards. Sometimes he didn’t even remember the _sex_ anymore. He used to, back when they first started doing it. Back then, he remembered every single time they had sex. The blowjob at Sarm Studios. The time they made love on Gary’s brand new carpet floor. The amazing handjob after they won another Brit. Then life happened and everything became a bit blurred, in a bad way.

Gary was already in his underwear when he opened the door and let Mark in. He was rock hard. He hadn’t bothered shaving, which was how Mark liked Gary best.

Each time, it was at a different hotel. A different name checked in with. A different town or city, usually miles away from their respective houses because they couldn’t afford being caught. They never stayed at the same hotel twice. Gary would randomly text Mark the hotel name plus his room number and get ready while he waited. Out of laziness, Mark never replied, but he almost always showed up.

There were days when Mark genuinely couldn’t make it, but he always made an effort. Sometimes he’d even leave in the middle of a dinner with friends and family and hop into his car in the pretence that he had to do some last-minute writing. Usually James or Paul would drive him, bless them.

No-one ever suspected. Mark was a good family man. He didn’t do things like this, and neither did the perfect, clean Gary Barlow whose biggest sin was being a judge on a fixed, money-grabbing talent show.

Except they _did_. This time, Gary was staying at a small hotel more than half the size of the previous one. It was next to a noisy motorway, and it barely passed three stars. The rooms were small and suitably dirty. It told Mark that he would be wrong to expect anything more than a fuck tonight.

Gary was like that, sometimes. Sometimes the only thing he desired was a quick shag to blow off steam after a long day of promo or recording.  In the beginning, Mark actually preferred Gary like that, all desperate and sexual and _needy_. Few people knew that side of him.

But sometimes – and lately increasingly more – Mark wished Gary desired more. Not sexually, but intimately. It’d be nice to cuddle after sex, Mark thought. Take a joint shower to wash off the dirt. Eat breakfast in bed, together. Actually _talk_ to each other during sex instead of keeping things limited to grunts and meaningless dirty talk that had already been recited over and over again. It was always ‘ _harder’_ , ‘ _deeper’_ , ‘ _faster’_ – never ‘ _I love you’_ , not anymore. I-love-yous were for couples who made love in their own beds.

But Gary never allowed Mark to show his affection. It was almost as if this was no more than a professional agreement, a contract signed at a record label that said nothing whatsoever about personal consequences and liability.

Mark closed the door behind him and turned the lock. He didn’t bother putting a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the handle.

He could play this game. All he’d have to do is forget about everything else.

‘Mr. Barlow,’ Mark said after giving Gary an unceremonious once-over, sounding much like the horny porn stars from his favourite videos that already seemed much more romantic than this evening, ‘I got your text.’

‘I can see that,’ Gary said, so, so genuinely aroused already. His eyes lingered on Mark’s lips – he could never tire of seeing Gary’s body, so strong and utterly _fuckable_ –: ‘How’s that record of yours coming along, Marko?’

Mark swallowed. This was Gary’s idea of small-talk. Quickly mention their respective solo albums, then hop into bed. It was getting predictable, like that one song that Mark had been slaving away at for months but couldn’t for the life of him improve. ‘Me new solo record? I’m gettin’ there. Yours?’

He already knew that Gary wouldn’t bother answering the question.

‘ _Hm_.’

Indeed, Gary ignored the question and started to very slowly unbutton Mark’s blouse with his long, talented fingers. It was a designer blouse that looked like it had been made out of a set of curtains; his gran’s, specifically. Underneath, Mark was wearing nothing. The tiny room being without aircon or, in fact, functioning windows, his chest was glistening with sweat already.

Maybe it was cold sweat.

Unable to resist, or perhaps just acting out his role, Mark’s hands slid effortlessly around Gary’s waist. He had to fight back a groan when he felt that Gary was wearing backless briefs that allowed him very easy access. That was a new one.

‘You’re very desperate, aren’t ya?’ Mark said. Gary couldn’t hear the genuine exasperation in his voice.

Mark wished he could squeeze and spread Gary’s arsecheeks. He wished he could get away with quietly slipping a wet finger inside and fingering Gary until he could no longer stand, until he begged and moaned into Mark’s ear — but they didn’t do foreplay. They hadn’t done foreplay for a very, very long time, because there was no fucking point.

That’s what this was. Sex, release, dirty talk, but with none of the things you did beforehand. No gentle kisses on temples, no rubbing of sensitive body parts; nothing. Gary had already taken care of everything by slathering his entrance with lube. He was hard already simply because he had been jerking himself off while he waited for Mark to arrive. None of the romance of their first times together remained.

Mark pretended he didn’t care. He was going to play this role regardless. For ten minutes, he might genuinely enjoy it.    

With each button that Gary popped open, his movements became quicker and quicker. He was becoming careless. _Hungry_. His eyes had glazed over with desire.

His hands could no longer keep up.

Gary literally jerked the piece of clothing off Mark’s body. It ended up in a mess on the floor, damaged and dirty.

‘Want you to fuck me,’ Gary said unceremoniously, and he kissed Mark, hungrily, against the door. Using his teeth and tongue, he kissed Mark sloppily down his neck until Mark had to push him away for fear of having inexplicable bruises on his skin.

‘On the bed,’ Mark ordered breathlessly. ‘ _Now_ ,’ he added when Gary almost went in for another needy kiss.

He wanted to take it slow. He wanted this over with quickly.

He didn’t know what he wanted. All Mark knew was that there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him to go home and be with the people who truly loved him, like he deserved. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a personal sex toy.

But still here he was, watching Gary do exactly what he told him to.

‘On the bed,’ Mark reiterated, ‘there ya go.’

‘How do you —?’

‘On your tummy, c’mon. Hands behind your back, arse up. There’s a good lad.’

The words that came out of Mark’s mouth didn’t sound like him at all, and yet he had to swallow at the sight of Gary on the bed, lying naked on his stomach but for those ridiculous briefs of his. His arse, big and curved and a tiny bit hairy, looked amazing in them, and Mark kind of wished Gary would allow him to rim him.

He couldn’t even remember what Gary tasted like anymore.

His face pressed into the mattress – hands for now obediently behind his back – Gary could only hear and _imagine_ Mark zip down his trousers. Then he felt the bed dent as Mark crawled onto it, trousers and underpants resting just below his arse because he couldn’t be bothered to take them off, and Gary released a shaky breath into the sheets.

At first, having almost-anonymous sex like this made things easier. The boys obviously had feelings for each other that went far beyond the casual hook-ups and quick shags in toilets, but they dared not admit it. Admitting they loved each other would only cock things up. It would make it real, and _wrong_. In their minds, or in Gary’s mind at least, what they were doing wouldn’t count as cheating as long as there wasn’t any love or affection involved.

Mark wished he was selfish enough to tell Gary what he really wanted. That he _needed_ the hand-holding and sweet nothings — but how could he if Gary was so skilfully trying to avoid any hint of intimacy?  

Gary groaned when Mark rubbed his cock against the curve of his arse, repeatedly. It always did the trick of turning him on.

‘You want this?’ Mark asked rhetorically. His hands were on Gary’s hips, holding him in place in case Gary started doing that wriggling thing he always did when he was horny and desperate for cock.

‘ _Yes_.’

Mark knew they didn’t have time for this, but God, he couldn’t help it:

‘Yes — _what,_ Mr. Barlow?’

There was a time when Gary would turn scarlet every time Mark referred to him by his last name.

‘ _Please_ , Mark. Just fuck me, will you?’ Gary groaned impatiently. There wasn’t a single tone of affection in his voice, and it stung. ‘I haven’t got all bloody night.’

 ‘Right. Sorry, Gaz,’ Mark said a little disappointedly, and he retrieved a condom from his trouser pocket and skilfully tore the wrapper with his teeth. He rolled it onto his cock with one hand still placed firmly on Gary’s hip and didn’t bother warning his lov— his sex partner when he filled him up.

Gary tensed, immediately. In a good way.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he whimpered, and he began to slowly push his arse against Mark’s crotch like the desperate slut Mark thought he was. Every time he did, Gary’s body wrapped itself around Mark’s cock tighter and deeper. It was a delicious sight, and an even better feeling that for a moment overpowered all the negative tension in the room.

‘You like this, don’t ya?’ Mark asked rhetorically, and his earlier reservations left his mind entirely as he started to push back, fast and deep.

‘Oh _God_ , yes, Mark, _yes_ —’

Soon, Mark’s thrusts sped up. His small hands ran over Gary’s soft, sweaty back. The bed was creaking, badly. Mark had to bite his lip at the sound of his ballsacks relentlessly hitting Gary’s skin. His cock slipped out of Gary’s entrance, and Gary moaned into his pillow when Mark pushed it back in harder, deeper.

‘Oh, _shit._ ’ Mark let out a deep, throaty moan. His eyes fluttered closed as the first wave of pleasure rolled over him.

He tried to ignore the guilty rush that he felt at the same time.

‘Spank me,’ Gary ordered, and Mark did as he was told. ‘ _Again_.’ Mark did it again.

For a couple of minutes, Mark was genuinely enjoying it. When he draped himself over Gary’s hot body and kissed Gary’s hair in time with his thrusts, he could make himself believe they had a connection. The whimper that left Gary’s lips when Mark bit his ear was unmistakable. The kiss they shared, albeit at an awkward angle, was real and almost romantic while they soared to the edge of orgasm together. Gary’s right hand was clutching the sheets, and Mark rubbed it with his thumb as a silent sign of affection.

Then Mark’s cock fell out one last time, and the illusion was gone.

Mark removed the condom, fast, and he came in hot spurts onto Gary’s back. Gary was moaning at the sensation throughout.

Normally this was a sight that Mark loved and made him want to do it all over again, but it didn’t feel good at all this time. By the time he’d squeezed out the last drop and saw how wet and sticky his hands had become, Mark felt dirty and tired. Overcome with a sudden, overwhelming mix of negative emotions, he didn’t bother cleaning the mess off Gary’s back and staggered off the bed.

_I can’t do this anymore I can’t do this anymore I can’t do this anymore_

His hands shaking, Mark struggled to zip his trousers back up. He had to leave. Just had to. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stay.

What were they going to do anyway? Cuddle? Shower together? They’d stopped doing that shit _months_ ago.

‘Marko, mate, what’s wrong?’ Gary said, his voice the personification of ignorance. He had gotten up from his compromising position on the bed and was busy rubbing himself with a towel he had left on the nightstand. His briefs, Mark saw, had a stain on them. The bedsheets were wet. Mark felt dirty just looking at it.

‘Nothing,’ Mark lied with a fake smile he’d practiced over the years, and he picked up his blouse from the floor and put it back on. Buttoning it up was an absolute bitch with his hands shaking like he’d just lost his virginity.

‘Doesn’t _look_ like nothing.’

‘Are you serious, Gaz?’ Mark spat. ‘We’re gonna do this _now_?’

‘Do what?’

‘Don’t this ever bother you?’ Mark said, apropos of nothing. His blouse was still half-unbuttoned. His voice was soft, but there was an anger in the blue of his eyes that Gary had never witnessed. ‘These — meaningless fucks? We used to have fun, you know. ‘T used to be exciting before you decided you didn’t want me to send you flowers anymore, or — or hold your hand while we was recording somethin’.’ He was silent, then, ‘I don’t even know if you still love me anymore.’

Gary frowned, affronted. ‘But you enjoyed that. You _came_.’

Perhaps it was the bottle of beer from a while ago, perhaps it was just the comedown after his shitty orgasm, he didn’t know — but Mark couldn’t keep the words in anymore. He loved Gary deeply, but not like this. He knew that much now.

‘So that’s what this is, then? We both come and I’m expected to hop back into me car?’

‘ _Mark_ —’

In the music industry, cover versions are currency. Easy fixes, as it were. They’re for the artist who isn’t able to write a hit themselves. So, a record label will come and tell them to cover a song from the 80s or 90s. The cover does well on the charts. A different artist will then cover the cover at Live Lounge. The next act will come along, and do the same thing. Then, gradually, none of the elements that made the original song so good will remain until all that’s left is a bad copy of a copy.

Mark could no longer see what made his original affair with Gary so good. He no longer remembered the strolls at midnight. The times Gary held his hand on difficult days. The way Gary’s lips felt on his when they first kissed.

He wished he could remember whether the kiss had been gentle or desperate. Whether there were hands involved.

‘When was our first kiss?’ Mark asked suddenly. He felt like this mattered.

‘God, Mark, that’s a bit of a —’

‘You can’t remember, can ya?’

But Mark did, now. Their first kiss had been at Rob’s, back when they were still putting down the vocals for _Progress._ They were fucking ecstatic because the album was finally taking shape, and suddenly it happened. Just like that. One moment they were talking, and the next moment Gary’s desperate lips were suddenly on Mark’s like he wanted to do nothing more than taste Mark’s tongue and press him into the sofa. They nervously undressed like they were teenagers again, and made love; _actual_ , gentle, sweet love. Gary told Mark he loved him when he came. Mark told Robbie he should consider buying a new sofa.

Gary gave a little shrug. ‘‘S just a long time ago, our first kiss.’

‘Wow,’ Mark huffed incredulously. They could pretend otherwise, but in the end, none of this was worth it, not really.

Mark said nothing when he demonstratively did up the final button of his blouse, opened the door, and left. The song they shared had already been changed too much.


End file.
